


are you going to surprise me today?

by onlyeverthus



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-15 12:28:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4606758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyeverthus/pseuds/onlyeverthus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clara has a crush on one of her regulars at the diner where she works, a new professor at the nearby college, but does he feel the same about her? (Diner AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	are you going to surprise me today?

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the recent pics of Jenna on-set in that adorable waitress uniform. (Also giving a warning for sexual harassment.)

"Clara, your bloke's here."

"He's not _my_ bloke," Clara retorts, giving Rose a look as she grabs a couple of plates from the window.

"Well, he always sits at that same table, in your section," Rose counters, "and isn't too happy when someone else waits on him on your days off. It's like he's imprinted on you or something."

Clara shakes her head, and walks away without a word to deliver the plates in her hand. After checking to see if they need anything else, she heads over to her regular, sitting alone at a table by the window. What she knows about him can be counted on one hand: he just started teaching history at the nearby college a few months ago, he's originally from Scotland, he's got blue eyes, he's always wearing dark colors (he seems particularly fond of comfortable looking jumpers, baggy trousers, and heavy black boots), and he comes in for lunch every day during the week and always orders the special, no matter what it is.

"Afternoon, Doctor Smith," she says when she reaches his table.

"Afternoon, Clara," he replies, looking up from his papers and favoring her with a brief smile.

"Are you going to surprise me today, or –"

"Just the usual, thank you, Clara."

"Coming right up," Clara says with a nod, flashing a smile before she turns away to put in his order.

Once it's in, she has a few minutes to breathe, and she leans against the counter, surveying the diner patrons. Eventually, her gaze falls on Doctor Smith, and stays there. She thinks about where they were just a few months ago. He came in on the first day of the term, and picked the closest empty table, the one in her section by the window. He'd been gruff and short with her, and she'd just chalked it up to first day jitters, figuring he was a new professor, since she'd never seen him before. He'd ordered the special that day, and every day for that first week until she caught on, and when he came in for lunch the Monday of the following week, she'd asked if he wanted the usual. He'd given her a strange look, but nodded, and she'd gone to put the order in.

Clara later told Rose that he seemed like a grumpy owl.

Eventually, he started warming to her, and the first time he greeted her by her name, after a glance at the tag affixed to the front pocket of her uniform, she'd been pleasantly surprised.

"Good afternoon to you as well, Mister..."

"Doctor," he'd corrected quickly. "Doctor Smith."

It had taken a couple of months to get to where they were now, but it was an amenable relationship, and he was a good customer, always polite, and never caused trouble.

There's definitely something about him that draws her to him, though she's not really sure what it is. He's much older than her, in his 50's, she's guessed, with thick, curly grey hair, and while she's never really been against dating a man of his age, she's never really considered it either.

But there's something about him that she just really likes. He looks so serious most of the time, his expression almost a scowl, but then he'll look up at her and give her that brief smile, an upward curve of his mouth, and she can't help but smile back. She likes his accent, and the way he says her name, and has gotten to the point where she looks forward to his appearance every day, and misses him on her days off.

"Take a picture," Rose says as she sidles up next to Clara. "It'll last longer."

"Shut up," Clara laughs, nudging Rose with her elbow.

"Why don't you just ask him out?" Rose murmurs.

"Please," Clara scoffs. "I doubt he's even thought of me that way."

Rose raises her eyebrows. "You never know. This is exactly how I met John. Like, _exactly_ , he was my regular, and I had the biggest crush on him, and then he asked me out. And here we are now, living together with a baby on the way."

"I know, I know, but this is just... It's not the same. I'm probably too young for him anyway."

"Hey, you're both consenting adults," Rose replies as she pushes off the counter. "S'all that matters."

Clara rolls her eyes, and Rose gives her a cheeky grin as she turns away to grab an order from the window.

 

 

The next morning, as Clara and Rose are opening the diner together, Rose comes to lean against the counter while Clara is wiping it down.

"Okay, so, I finally asked John about your bloke," she says.

"Would you stop calling him 'my' bloke?" Clara replies with a sigh of exasperation.

Rose waves a hand, and continues. "His full name is John Smith too, which, what a weird coincidence. I wonder which of our Johns is a spy."

Clara snorts, and turns to grab some menus from the box by the kitchen window, and Rose follows her as she lays them along the counter.

"He's 55, taught in Scotland for a long time before coming here. Not really sure why he came here. John says he thinks it was because of a divorce."

"Oh, great, that's just what I want," Clara mutters. "A guy who just got divorced."

"I didn't say that was the actual reason. Just that's what John thinks. If he likes you, what's the harm in it?"

"Who says he likes me?" Clara retorts, one hand on her hip as she turns to face Rose. "Or at least, likes me like _that_?"

"Well, there's only one way to find out."

 

 

_Are you going to surprise me today, or –_

_Just the usual, thank you, Clara._

So it goes, carrying on for days, and weeks. Sometimes she thinks she sees something there, like when he comments on the tinsel tied around her ponytail at the beginning of December, or the way he lights up when she compliments his new coat with the red lining, or when he leaves her a large tip just before the winter break begins for the college, under a note that reads _Happy Christmas, Clara_ in a messy scrawl.

She doesn't see him the entire time the college is closed for the holidays, and misses him more than she expects, or will admit.

When the first day of the new term rolls around, he walks through the door right on time, and Clara's heart leaps when he settles at his usual table. She walks over to take his order, and he lifts his gaze to her, favoring her with that smile, and before she can speak, he asks, "Did you have a good holiday, Clara?"

"Er," she begins, flustered by the question, and then gives a quick nod. "I mean, yes, it was very nice." She bites her lip, and raises her eyebrows. "And you, Doctor Smith?"

"Mine was nice as well, but it's good to be back." His smile widens almost imperceptibly, and then he drops his gaze to the table momentarily.

Clara is silent a moment, biting on her lip again, and then realizes she has an actual job to do.

"Are you going to surprise me today, or –"

"Just the usual," he says, looking up at her once more. "Thank you, Clara."

She nods, and he smiles, and she turns to walk over to put the order in. It feels like his gaze is still on her, and she tries to focus on the task at hand, but her curiosity grows too much, and she glances back. He _is_ looking at her, and she holds his gaze for a frozen moment, until Rose bumps into her, startling her and making her gasp. Rose apologizes quickly, maneuvering around Clara with a large tray in her hands, and once she's gone, Clara looks again, but Doctor Smith's eyes are now on the notebook in front of him.

With a sigh, Clara turns to grab the coffee carafe and makes the rounds at her tables.

When the lunch rush dies down, Clara finally has a chance to breathe, and notices that Doctor Smith is still at his table. This isn't unusual, as he sometimes lingers long after he's eaten to read or work, and Clara just makes sure to check on him every once in a while.

There's a larger table in her section that she's also dealing with, a rowdy group of young men who are straining Clara's smile, and her patience. More than once, she gets the sensation of hands trying to touch and grab her, and she'll step out of the way, practically dancing around the table to do her job without getting groped.

Unfortunately, she can't avoid the wandering hands as she starts to clear away their plates and glasses, leaning far across the table to gather it all together and feeling a hand skitter over the back of her leg.

"Guys, knock it off," she says, straightening and stacking the glasses and plates in her hand on the tray.

"What's your rush?" one of them asks. She can't tell them apart, hasn't really looked at any of their faces; in her mind, they're all faceless bodies with too many hands.

"I have a job to do," she says, lifting the tray into her hands. It's overloaded and precarious, but she just wants to get away as fast as she can.

"You've got a job to do here too," another of them says, snaking his arms around her waist.

"Let go of me," she says in a low voice. Rose is back in the kitchen with the cooks, and the dining room is almost empty aside from Clara, this pack of idiots, and Doctor Smith.

"Just stay for a few minutes." They're boxing her in, surrounding her, and she pushes back against the one holding her as another one reaches for her. The heavy tray tips in her hands, and there's no way to stop it as it falls to the floor with a crash of silverware and broken porcelain and shattered glass.

Clara's hands fly to cover her mouth as she stares at the mess at her feet, and then she elbows the boy holding her.

"Let me go!" she exclaims.

"Just leave it," the other boy says. There are six of them, but these two seem to be the leaders, and the other one reaches for her. "Come with us."

"No!" She's torn between trying to get away from the man holding her, and the one trying to grab her, and she steps to the side as she wrenches herself from the grasp of the one holding her. Her foot lands on a large chunk of a broken plate, and she stumbles to the side, right into another pair of arms. She swallows as she looks up, right into Doctor Smith's angry face, and he lets her go as he steps forward, placing himself squarely in front of her.

"Pay your bill, get the hell out of here, and don't ever come back."

Clara peers around him, expecting the boys to be sneering or derisive, but instead they're all staring at Doctor Smith like little boys who got caught being naughty by their father. They pull money from their pockets, scattering bills and coins across the table, and scurry from the diner, the bell over the door tinkling in their wake.

Clara takes a breath, running her hands over the front of her uniform, and looks up again when he turns to face her.

"Are you all right?" he asks, raising his eyebrows. It's the first time she's stood next to him like this, and she can't quite get over how tall he is.

"I'm fine," she murmurs. "Thank you for – for doing that."

"I was hoping I wouldn't have to," he replies. "I was trying to let you handle it yourself, but they clearly weren't going to listen to you."

"In a perfect world, maybe," Clara mutters, and kneels to the floor to start cleaning up the broken dishes and glasses. Doctor Smith joins her, and she holds up her hands in protest. "No, you don't have to do that –"

"It's no trouble," he says, as Rose appears next to Clara, setting a bussing tray on the floor.

"Really, you don't have to –" Clara begins again, reaching for the broken pieces of plate in his hands, and then gasps when her finger catches on one of the sharp edges.

"Oh, no," Rose says as blood quickly wells up from the cut on Clara's finger. "I'll get a plaster."

"Today is just not my day," Clara mutters as Rose hurries off, wincing as she looks at her finger.

"Here," Doctor Smith says, reaching for her hand. He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and gently wraps it around her finger, holding her hand in his.

"Thank you, Doctor Smith," Clara says softly, and then gives a quick laugh. "Again."

"It's no trouble," he says once more, shaking his head and favoring her with that smile that makes her heart flip. "I have to get back, I have a class –"

"Of course, go. I don't want you to be late."

"You're sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine. Thank you."

Doctor Smith's expression is reluctant as he pushes to stand, and Clara watches him walk to his table to gather his things. He looks back at once more as he leaves, and she gives him a smile, which he returns before disappearing out the door.

"All right?" Rose asks, reappearing next to Clara again.

"Yeah, I think it looks worse than it is."

"C'mon, let's get it cleaned up." Rose pulls Clara to her feet by her uninjured hand, and they move into the bathroom, where Rose pulls the handkerchief from around Clara's finger. "Where'd that come from?"

"It's Doctor Smith's," Clara says, taking it from Rose. "I'll have to wash it and give it back to him."

"What in the world happened, anyway?" Rose asks, turning the faucet on and urging Clara to wash her hands. "I came out when I heard all the plates breaking, and then went to call Mr. Harkness."

"The boys at that table were messing with me, grabbing me and stuff, and I dropped the tray. And then Doctor Smith came over and told them to leave, and they did. Typical asshole stuff. The boys, I mean, not Doctor Smith."

"Ugh," Rose grunts in disgust, carefully patting Clara's finger dry. She peers at the cut, and then shakes her head. "It doesn't look that bad, I don't think we need to get you stitched or anything."

Clara nods, unable to keep from wincing as Rose dabs some antibiotic ointment on the cut, and then gently wraps a bandage around it.

"Feel all right?" Rose asks.

Clara nods once more, and then sighs. "All of that broken stuff is coming out of my paycheck."

"Maybe not, Mr. Harkness will understand –"

"He might understand, but he's still gonna have to replace all of those plates and glasses somehow."

Rose sighs as well. "C'mon, we'll worry about that later. Let's just go finish cleaning that mess up."

They head back into the dining room, where they see two of the cooks sweeping the floor and clearing the table.

"Thanks, guys," Clara says, giving them a grateful smile as she and Rose step over to help. The cooks ask if she's okay, and then say a few choice words about the boys, making Clara laugh, and soon, the whole mess is cleaned up.

Clara collects the money scattered on the table, and heads to count it by the register.

"Well," she says when she's finished, "they left more than they owed."

"That's something," Rose says. "Doctor Smith must've scared them good."

"I think so," Clara replies with a quiet laugh. "Is Mr. Harkness coming down?"

"Yeah, he said he'd be here soon."

"Okay, I'll just set all of this aside for him to deal with." Clara puts the money into a small plastic bag, and tucks it into the register before going to clear off Doctor Smith's table. She sees something in one of the chairs, and frowns as she reaches for it.

"Oh, no," she murmurs to herself, realizing he left one of his notebooks behind. She doesn't have time to leave and find him to give it to him, so she tucks it into her apron, intending to give it to him when he comes in tomorrow.

 

 

Later that night, she's in the diner just after closing, cleaning things up before she goes home. Rose offered to stay and help, but Clara told her to go on; Clara likes having the time alone with her thoughts, and the cleaning helps relax her, not to mention Rose's pregnancy is nearing the final months, and Clara doesn't want her on her feet longer than necessary.

After the events of the day, Clara's thoughts are definitely racing around in her head, thinking about the boys who had harassed her, and thinking about Doctor Smith coming to her rescue. She hadn't seen his face, but the boys had seemed so afraid of him, and she wondered what he must've looked like. His expression had been concerned when he looked at her, and she remembered the way he started to help her clean up, the way he touched her as he wrapped his handkerchief around her finger after she cut herself. He'd seemed so reluctant to leave, and she finds herself wondering again if maybe there really was more there for him too.

A sudden tap on the door startles her in the middle of wiping down the counter, and she looks up, her eyebrows rising in surprise when she sees who it is. She steps around the counter, pulling her keys from her pocket as she hurries to the door, and unlocks it.

"Doctor Smith?" she murmurs.

"I didn't think you'd still be here," he replies, looking surprised as well.

"Monday is my long day. Open to close. How can I – I mean, why –"

"I'm missing something, and hoping I left it here earlier today –"

"Oh!" Clara interrupts. "Your notebook, yes, I have it. Come in, I'll go get it for you."

Doctor Smith steps in, the bell over the door ringing as the door swings shut behind him, and follows Clara as she moves over to the counter.

"I didn't want something to happen to it," she says, "so I put it in my purse, so I'd be sure to bring it back tomorrow. Here you are."

She extends the notebook over the counter, and he smiles as he takes it. "Thank you, Clara."

"Yeah, no problem. And thank you, again, for earlier today. I don't know what might have happened if you hadn't been there. I mean, the others were in the kitchen, but it's not always easy to hear what's going on out here when you're back there."

"You don't have to thank me," Doctor Smith says quietly. "It's what any decent person would've done. Like I said, I wanted to let you try to handle it first, I didn't want to seem like I was... diminishing your ability to take care of yourself, but then they weren't listening, and I was afraid they might hurt you, so I stepped in."

"I'm glad you did. Really. I'm too small to really be intimidating –"

"I'm a firm believer of great things coming in small packages," Doctor Smith says with that smile that Clara likes so much, which widens when she laughs. "And I think, under different circumstances, you could've handled those boys all on your own."

"Yeah, let me at 'em without a tray full of plates and glasses and see what I can do."

Doctor Smith smiles again, and then raises his eyebrows. "Speaking of, how's your finger?"

"It's fine. Nothing serious. Rose patched me up good. I've got your handkerchief, I'll wash it and give it back to you soon, I promise."

"Don't worry about it. I'm just glad you're okay."

Clara smiles, and there's a beat of silence before she laughs softly. "This is the most we've ever talked."

"You can always talk to me."

"I just... feel like I'd be bothering you."

Doctor Smith shakes his head. "I know how I come off. I can be rather... unapproachable, and I can be shy a lot of the time, which makes it even worse. But – but I'm happy to talk to _you_ , Clara. I –" He breaks off, his fingers tightening around his notebook, and takes a breath. "I look forward to seeing you every day. It's why I keep coming here, why I always sit at that table."

Clara's heart beats a little faster, and she bites the inside of her lip before saying, "I look forward to seeing you every day too. I – I really missed you over the holidays."

"I missed you too."

There's another moment of silence, and then Clara whispers, "I really like you, Doctor Smith."

"John," he whispers back. Her lips curve as she repeats his name, and he stares back at her. "I really like you too, Clara."

Silence falls once more, and then Clara can't stand it anymore. "My boss would kill me if he saw me do this, but he's not here, and since I now know you're so much taller than me..."

John's expression becomes confused, and his eyes widen as Clara climbs onto the counter, swinging her body around until she's sitting in front of him, her legs hanging over the edge of the counter. She reaches forward to pull the notebook from his hands, and sets it on the counter beside her before taking his hands in hers and pulling him closer.

His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, and Clara squeezes his fingers, pulling him closer still as she lifts her head, her eyes on his lips before they rise to meet his gaze. He stares back, and then closes the distance between them, pressing his lips to hers in a soft kiss.

When the kiss breaks, they pull apart enough to meet each other's eyes, and Clara grins as she pulls her hands from his to wrap her arms around his neck, leaning forward for another kiss. His hands move to rest against the counter on either side of her, his fingertips brushing against her thighs, and her heart flutters, her stomach tightening at the sensation.

"You have definitely surprised me today," she says when she pulls back.

"I've surprised myself," he replies, raising his eyebrows, and smiles when she laughs.

"You should smile more," she says, bringing one hand to his cheek. "It changes your entire face."

"Haven't had much of a reason to smile lately. But maybe now..." He trails off, and this time she smiles, bright and brilliant.

"Do you maybe want to grab a coffee, or maybe even something to eat?" she asks. "Get to know each other a bit better."

"That's a good idea," he replies, grabbing his notebook off the counter and stepping back so she can hop down. She moves around to get her purse from under the counter, and they walk to the door together. He waits while she locks it, and she drops the keys into her purse before they start down the sidewalk.

"Hope you don't mind me in my uniform," she says, ponytail swinging as she looks up at him. "I was planning on just going home after work."

"Not at all. I think you look rather fetching in that uniform. I – I may have stood outside for about five minutes before I knocked on the door tonight, because you just looked so pretty."

"Wait 'til you see me _out_ of uniform," Clara says, grinning when he looks down at her with one eyebrow arched, and she reaches for his hand, squeezing his fingers as the two of them continue down the sidewalk.

**Author's Note:**

> [Sequel here!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4619457)


End file.
